


you can do what's right (or you can do what you are told)

by yet_intrepid



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23687734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: “Let’s reinstate our designated facilitator, please,” Combeferre says to Bahorel, who’s twirling the facilitator hat on his middle finger.activism isn't always exciting, and it isn't always loud. here are the parts of it that are disjointed, that are tired, that just feel likeworkwhen you'd rather be done for the day. by the time any clashes come, les amis de l'abc have been here for a long time: plodding forward, laughing together, trying to delegate someone to attend the tedious meeting of an organization they vaguely partner with at 4:35pm next Tuesday.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	you can do what's right (or you can do what you are told)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure I've tossed this fragment up on tumblr before (it's SEVERAL years old--at least two, but possibly as many as five? dates got erased off a lot of my old files when a computer thing happened a while back) but Shell asked me to put it here! so here it is! and this will be a home for any other times I just get the ITCH (as I do) to write fic that deals with Actual Organizing in modern au Les Mis fic, which I feel there's such a lack of, and I want to read it, and sometimes you just gotta Do It Yourself (With Your Friends, And That's Organizing).
> 
> enough notes. this is only like 500 words. have fun.

“Okay,” says Enjolras, who’s playing notetaker. “So Feuilly’s on flyer design and Combeferre will print them in the TA office. Right?”

“Right,” says Courfeyrac. He’s wearing the facilitator hat Joly made two weeks ago, a bit of folded scrap paper meant to remind everyone to quit backseat driving, and Feuilly can see Bossuet stifle laughter every time it almost slides off its perch on Courfeyrac’s afro. “Feuilly, are you okay with coming up with content for the flyers, or are you just doing the cool shit?”

Feuilly hesitates. She’s already doing so much, it feels like, trying to keep up her scholarships and work thirty hours, but that’s just a living; this is _life_. On the other hand, her flyers are never as clever as Bossuet’s or Courfeyrac’s. “I can do content if no one else can.”

Everyone looks at each other, and Feuilly bites her tongue.

“It sounds like what you’re saying,” says Jehan, after a moment, “is you’d rather not do the writing bit.”

Thank fuck for Jehan when Feuilly fails at assertiveness. “Yeah,” she says. “My manager's got me on a shit schedule again. I close Tuesday and then open Wednesday at five a.m, and then I've got a test in my Wednesday afternoon class.”

Bahorel groans sympathetically. “Tests already?”

“Hey,” Jehan says, shoving Bahorel, “you can’t complain; you aren’t even enrolled this semester!”

“I’m complaining about _Feuilly’s_ tests,” Bahorel retorts. “Somebody’s got to; she won’t…”

Jehan shoves Bahorel again, Joly is whispering to Bossuet, and suddenly the whole room is laughing. Combeferre throws up her hands and knocks off Courfeyrac’s facilitator hat, which Enjolras promptly confiscates before Bahorel can grab it.

“Hey!” yells Courfeyrac, over the noise, and Combeferre whistles, fingers in her mouth and loud enough that Enjolras, who’s nearest, drops the facilitator hat to clap their hands over their ears. “Ouch,” they complain.

Combeferre doesn’t apologize. “Let’s reinstate our designated facilitator, please,” she says to Bahorel, who’s twirling the hat on his middle finger.

When order’s restored, Courfeyrac settles the hat back on his head and clears his throat. “Okay,” he says. “So Feuilly cannot do the flyer content, correct?”

She hesitates, but nods. “Correct.”

“I nominate Bossuet,” says Enjolras. “His always went over really well last semester.”

“Shucks,” says Bossuet with a smile, over Joly’s protests that _Enjolras_ , that’s not how the process is supposed to work; there’s no _nominating_. “All right then.”

“Okay,” Enjolras says. “So it’s Bossuet on flyer content, Feuilly on design, Combeferre on printing.”

“Don’t get caught, Combeferre,” says Courfeyrac. “We won’t be able to do half as much without your clandestine printing operation.”

Combeferre grins, shaking her head. “I won’t get caught,” she says. “Everyone in the department thinks I’m too respectable to pull anything. Besides, I’m sneakier than you.”

Courfeyrac clutches his heart dramatically, the hat falls off again, and chaos re-erupts. Feuilly leans back against the wall, catching Enjolras’ eye and sighing in amusement. It’s a wonder they get anything done.

“Hey!” Enjolras yells. Somehow, they’re capable of being louder than Courfeyrac, and everyone obligingly silences. Enjolras resumes. “Did we decide what day we’re flyering?”

“Friday,” says Joly. “Parents’ day. Eleven o’clock.”

Enjolras types it up. Courfeyrac, hat in place once more, checks the agenda.

“Okay,” he says, “that covers it. Anyone have stuff that has to be addressed in person before next week?”

Combeferre raises her hand. “Can anyone absolutely _not_ flyer Friday at eleven? Like, work-or-class cannot flyer?”

Jehan grimaces. “I’ll be in stats.”

“Have fun,” Courfeyrac tells him. “Everyone else, I’ll see you there.” 

"Hell yeah," goes Bahorel, "flyering," and Bossuet says "Feuilly, pal, I'll get you the flyer text tomorrow morning, yeah?" and with that, Feuilly feels just better enough to get herself on the bus home.


End file.
